


looping feedback

by Smercy



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smercy/pseuds/Smercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me what you want."</p>
            </blockquote>





	looping feedback

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hauntedd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedd/gifts).



Red, just everywhere with fragments of things. Things that used to be body parts, valuable pieces. And blood, and screaming, he was screaming. There was just nothing and she was dead. The kind of ruined that splattered pieces of her all over him and in his mouth and he couldn't get away from it. It wasn't real, not at all. Just a nightmare.

He couldn't tell what was real, just that her body was turning cold. And it was real, and it had happened, and he couldn't escape it. It didn't feel like a dream. The bits of her skull were so sharp. Maybe if he tried to put her back together. Maybe if he jumped from a window, maybe if he found her gun. He couldn't move.

Then: new pain made everything white and pulling, sparks knife sharp through his nerves. All of his nerves, the parts that he couldn't remember having. Body parts.

It was a body and he was in it, but which one? His, possibly. The wrists weren't tied down, and the cuff-links were familiar. Breathing didn't feel different, automatic functions weren't lagging.

Adelle was in front of him, and her hair was tinged with gray. Her face was solemn, still as unlined, but she looked different. Apocalyptic.

"Mr. Dominic," she addressed. He could only hear the control in her voice. Adelle didn't welcome him back, and he had to stumble from the chair to follow her.

The house was ghostly, lights dimmed halfway. He wanted to hold her hand; he wanted too many things. His eyes ached like sandpaper.

Her office was familiar, he tried not to collapse too obviously onto her couch. "We have an issue," Adelle announced, taking a long swig of something strong. Her fingers quivered as she did it. "The tech," she spat, "Was leaked outside. And now we cannot leave."

He had expected that outcome since the first time he saw the tech. Still, his mouth was too dry to speak. He managed, "How bad?"

"Bad," she responded. Adelle crossed her legs as she sat, and had a new scar running thin up the entire length of her calf. Her hair was wilder.

They paused. He let the anger settle in and roll in his gut. If she had let him, he would have protected her. He didn't know the year. "Why take me out?"

Another gulp, large enough to worry him. How would they last through an apocalypse if she burned through all of the booze in the first few months. "Mr. Langton is no longer available, and I need to initiate a security protocol." The sort of process that involved active participation from the Head of Security, so she hadn't had his genetic code removed from the system. "Do you remember the Glass White protocols?" He nodded. "I want you to find a copy of it in the system and imprint me with the knowledge. Topher is indisposed for the day." Adelle stood and strolled back to the imprint room, and her neck was so very long.

She reclined in the chair like she was daring him. All at once, he couldn't do it. His fingers sputtered with rage, and blood went hot through his ears. Adelle was at his mercy.

He chose the wrong set. He used Snake Apple instead. It was fitting, he thought, to use what was rightfully his and that which she could not touch. Snake Apple was traditionally for interrogation, but not for _Adelle._

The chair went purple and he grabbed her hand, her eyes leaking moisture. "You can trust me," he murmured, eyes carefully on hers. She couldn't look away. "You should answer me."

"Honestly and truthfully," Adelle whispered, her will choking the words in her throat.

"You can trust me because I will make things better. I want to help you," he said, running his thumb over the pulse point at her wrist. "Things will be all right when I am there."

Adelle whimpered. The words were soft, but perfectly formed to the script. "I will do as you ask."

The script was complicated, and he used it twice. Adelle finished with glazed eyes and both hands in his. The chair had imprinted a basic punishment and reward system in her brain, she was compelled by her very chemistry to be truthful. She was programmed to unconditionally trust him.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her. "What is your full name?"

"Adelle DeWitt," she responded. He stroked her cheek as rewards.

"What is my name?" He was sure to make his voice kindly.

"Laurence Dominic." Her eyes unfocused and she leaned into him. The imprint was almost painfully strong, he knew.

And somewhere inside, the remainder of Adelle's free will was screaming. He could tell, could easily remember the feeling. "Did you want to send me to the Attic?"

She muttered, "Yes."

"Did you miss me while I was there?"

Adelle nodded, obviously uncomfortable. She looked confusedly frustrated and he knew that holding her only made it worse.

"Good," he praised, and kissed her mouth. It was light, but all of his nerves cried for it. "How long was I in the Attic?"

"Six and a half years," she answered.

Her mouth looked ripe. "Are you planning on sending me back?"

"No."

He murmured, "Good," and kissed her again. Her limbs melted into it, untensing all at once. "Do you like it when I kiss you?"

He spent longer at her mouth, licking her lips open. "Yes," she gasped. "Don't stop, please."

So she didn't know that he couldn't stop. He moved one hand to the back of her neck and lowered her onto the chair, mouth fastened to hers. He smudged her lipstick red all down her neck, and her gasps were honeyed.

Adelle biologically could not lie to him, and her body was under his power. He would be a better captor, but he had never been an especially kind man.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, angling his breath hot on her ear. She shook her head, trying frantically to wiggle out from underneath him. He put his hands on her ribcage, stroking but not moving upwards. "You can't beat this Adelle. Just tell me what you want."

He had never before seen Adelle struggle for words, and it was gut-wrenching. "I want," she gasped. "I want you to kiss me again."

He kissed low along her jawbone, running his fingers over an exposed collarbone. "Tell me what you want," he said.

She tasted like brandy and cream, down to the skin. "I want to kiss you," she said, so he brought his mouth up to hers.

One hand went to her hair. It was unreasonably silky for a fucking apocalypse. The other hand started to make slow circles at her hip bone. He waited until she was panting. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to touch me," Adelle said.

He had to bite back laughter. "I am already touching you." He slowed his movement, "Tell me what you want."

Her groan landed like a physical blow. "I want you to undress me." His weight was pinning her down, and he wanted to see her naked. But it wasn't about getting what she wanted.

His hips pinned her downward and began to stroke the back of her neck with his fingertips. "Not now," he murmured. "Tell me what you want."

She looked flushed and out of control. She was probably humiliated, but this made her truthful. "I want you to fuck me."

"Tell me what you want," he repeated, thrusting his hips downward.   
"I want to fuck you."

He held her pinned and helpless.

"Tell me everything that you want me to do to you."

Her eyes burned at him; he was so hard that his legs throbbed with it.

"I want," she groaned. "I want to turn you over on your back and fuck you. I want you to kiss my neck again. I want to fuck you until you're sobbing, and then I want you on your knees. I want you under my desk while I'm working. I want you to come until you've forgiven me. I want you to pin me on my desk and fuck me so hard that we break it. I want to bend you over and take a dildo to you until you scream. I want you to get off of me, and I want to fuck you now."

Her whole body had surrendered to him, down to the brain. He was going to have her. "If you want me to fuck you, you will stay in this goddamn chair until I am done," He growled.

Got up, removed his suit jacket, set the chair to remove the protocols. The very best part, he knew, was that she would always remember this. The way she had caved into him, how her voice had begged. He watched all of the programming come undone as he removed the rest of his suit.

Afterward, she lay dazed and panting on the chair, furious. Adelle grabbed him roughly by the neck, pulled him down to her and kissed hard enough to bruise. She shimmed out of her panties as she did it, somehow. She tasted warm.

Adelle squeezed him at the hips until he flinched, then flipped him so his back was on the chair, awkwardly and out of position. She sunk down on him in one smooth thrust, so wet that it was a physical sensation. He couldn't breathe through the pleasure, fighting just to keep from coming.

She made a relentless pace, fucking so hard that the force of it knocked his head backwards and off of the seat. He struggled at her blouse, trying to get her as naked, desperate to see her. He ripped a hole through the side, but still couldn't get it away from her. Her skirt, heavy and bunched at her thighs scratched at him. The friction was so good that he couldn't stop moaning, could barely unsnap her bra.

Adelle refused to speak, but she couldn't help the noises that he inspired. He moved her upward with every thrust, circling her clit with his thumb until she uncontrollably bucked, then kept going. He had wanted her for so long.

She came wailing, fingernails drawing blood at his ribcage, and Adelle looked completely surrendered. She slumped to his chest as he fucked, desperately trying to finish. The new angle made a sound in her, throaty and desperate, and that was it. He came desperately in her, no breath left in his lungs, at her mercy.

She stayed on top of him for long seconds, panting. He could feel her exhaustion.

His fingers found a way to the small of her back and stroked. He had missed her so badly. She turned to look at his face, and he saw something behind her eyes, and he watched it snap. The corners of her eyes filled with moisture.

Adelle slowly climbed off of him, straightening her skirt downward and pulling her blouse back into place. She looked almost compose. She smiled, almost apologetically, and went to her purse for some tissues.

He followed her, muscles groaning in protest, he began to gather his suit from the floor.

Adelle looked at him and her eyes were dead. "I can't do this," she whispered. It was a gun, not tissues. A gun, and she pressed it to her temple in one smooth motion and depressed the trigger.

Red, just everywhere with fragments of things. Things that used to be body parts, valuable pieces. And blood, and screaming, he was screaming. There was just nothing and she was dead. The kind of ruined that splattered pieces of her all over him and in his mouth and he couldn't get away from it. It wasn't real, not at all. Just a nightmare.

He couldn't tell what was real, just that her body was turning cold. And it was real, and it had happened, and he couldn't escape it. It didn't feel like a dream. The bits of her skull were so sharp. Maybe if he tried to put her back together. Maybe if he jumped from a window, maybe if he found her gun. He couldn't move.

Then: new pain made everything white and pulling, sparks knife sharp through his nerves. All of his nerves, the parts that he couldn't remember having. Body parts.


End file.
